Forgetting
by JadedHowl
Summary: A couple of months after Sherlock's return John is finding it hard to move on and heal. He still accompanies Sherlock on cases but he's beginning to slip and Sherlock notices. He should be better right? But things only seem to get worse and then John moves out to live with his fiancé. When a blast from the past arrives at 221B Baker Street things change and old enemies arise again.


**Hello there. Unfortunately or fortunately (i'm undecided at the present time) I've come across another plot bunny. Now, I'm sure if you're giving this fanfic a go then you've probably watched the first episode of the new series of Sherlock (TV). If you haven't then there are a few spoilers in this first chapter so be warned. If you have then you'll understand that after watching it I haven't been able to stop myself from coming up with new plots for a Sherlock fanfic (my first one actually). So here we go. **

**Title:** Forgetting

**Summary:** A couple of months after Sherlock's return John is finding it hard to move on and heal. He still accompanies Sherlock on cases but he's beginning to slip and Sherlock notices. He should be better right? But things only seem to get worse and then John moves out to live with his fiancé. Sherlock is beginning to feel that dark void again and it seems like everything is going to fall apart when suddenly a blast from the past turns up at 221B Baker Street changing everything. Meanwhile an old enemy lurks in the shadows, waiting to crash into this new developed chaos.

**Themes:** Friendship, hurt/comfort, angst, adventure, violence

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Sherlock

**xxx**

Sherlock Holmes was a very particular man; of course he kept that to himself if he could help it. He liked things chaotic, unorganized, refreshing, rather than the blandness that could easily bleed into the life of a man in his thirties. He didn't feel thirty of course, he was still able to leap about after criminals just as he was able to chase down the postman as a child. In fact, Sherlock was quite unable to look after himself, like a child. Once again he denied this aspect of his personality quite thoroughly, but he knew that he forgot to feed himself, and look after his health, but really all of that information has been deleted so that it didn't take up room in his brain, John knew that. Of course John knew that.

Really that was what was bothering Sherlock at the moment.

John had moved on.

It was to be expected really, but things had fallen apart when he'd left for those two years. One of them being John's trust in him. Sherlock couldn't really see the problem when he had returned, quite surprisingly in the middle of a restaurant, posing as a French waiter and connoisseur of Champagne, in fact it was really rather funny. Yet, he had started picking up the signs that things were irreversibly changed between the two men.

Little ticks in John, like his slight limp, that didn't need a cane but was still there. Small hesitations in leaping after Sherlock once he'd discovered the whereabouts of the criminal they were chasing. The look of terror in John's eyes whenever they were stuck in a sticky situation in a dark alley, and how it always took him much longer to recover once the adrenalin had stopped pumping through his veins.

The silences between arguments were much longer too.

It was clear to Sherlock, no matter how much he liked to shroud it behind other information and upcoming cases that John hadn't really got over Sherlock's apparent suicide. He was still wounded and was finding it hard to heal.

Of course one wouldn't be able to spot this if one wasn't Sherlock Holmes himself. Which he was.

A familiar knock roused him from his thoughts and Sherlock huffed out a small breath and hauled himself off the sofa, looking down at himself, making sure that he was properly dressed before he opened the flat door.

"You know you don't have to knock John." He said quickly, the door opening to reveal his flat mate. John looked as he usually did, dressed neatly, not one hair out of place, and that hideous hairy upper lip gone from the clean-shaven face. Thank Lucifer.

Sherlock stepped backwards to admit the other man, who ignored his comment and walked in sharply. His shoulders were tense and he wasn't looking Sherlock in the eye.

"I've come to pick up the rest of-"

"Yes yes, I haven't forgotten." Sherlock interrupted, gesturing over to the corner where there was a pile of brown boxes. "It's all over there."

John hesitated again and Sherlock bit his tongue to stop him from snapping at the other man.

"I can see- well thank you." John muttered, moving over across the living room to where the rest of his things sat haphazardly. "You sure looked after them." He said under his breath. Sherlock frowned at John's back, but smoothed over his features when the other man turned back to face him.

"And I do have to knock Sherlock, I don't live here anymore."

"Yes you've made that very clear." Sherlock murmured, staring at John, noticing that he still wouldn't look him in the eye.

John sighed at his tone and Sherlock just carried on staring, knowing that it made the other man feel uncomfortable.

"Look Sherlock, we've been over this. I can't live here anymore because I'm getting married." John scowled at Sherlock, "And normal people usually share a house with the person they are getting married too."

"You're not exactly normal John." Sherlock cut in before he could stop himself. Clearly it was the wrong thing to say as John flushed and shifted his stance. Sherlock clocked this, understanding that this usually meant that John was preparing himself to punch him. He would know.

"Yes and whose bloody fault is that?!" John retorted, his voice getting louder in his frustration. He sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, I didn't mean that."

"Yes you did."

John's hand came away from his face and his palm slapped his leg loudly as he let it fall to his side.

"Stop acting like a child Sherlock." He said after a pause in which Sherlock continued to study him.

"You stop acting like a-"

"Sherlock for God's sake!"

Sherlock looked down at John's clothes for half a second before he looked back up into his eyes, surprised that he'd managed to make eye contact. His brain was quickly deducing the probability that John had been forced into coming here today by Mary.

_Shirt ruffled, meaning he didn't have time to iron it this morning. Late for work? No John isn't usually late for anything, so something else then? Jacket slightly hanging off left shoulder- put it on in a rush to leave. Argument with Mary? Probably. His trousers have creases by the pockets, been sitting for a while- thinking? Probably not. At work. Slight bump on the left hip… He still carries that around then. Living in the past? Most likely. Coffee on the breath, he only drank tea, so that means he was stressed. Call from his sister? Unlikely. Wedding preparations? Certainly not. Creased brow, meaning he's pissed off about something, whether that's-_

"Sherlock stop it!"

Sherlock's head snapped up and he realized that John had most likely realized he was deducing him again. John hated when he did that.

"John I-"

"No Sherlock! You've got to realize that I'm not one of your cases, I've known you for too long to put up with that cold way you look at criminals."

"I was just-"

"You were just treating me like one of them again! Before this whole thing started!"

Sherlock finally lost his tether, he didn't exactly take to kindly to being cut off and talked over. Twice.

"Well that's because you're behaving like you did the first time I met you!"

John paled slightly and stepped back but Sherlock was too far-gone to stop now.

"You're the one that left after I was sure you had gotten over everything! You're the one that started hiding how you were really feeling from me, and I mean _really_ feeling John, none of this stupid silence whenever we got too close to the actual truth of what was going on in that thick skull of yours! You bloody made sure I knew I wasn't a part of your life with your ticks and pathetic limp and your stupid wedding and now guess what?! I'm returning the favor!"

John was staring at him now, eyes wide and breathing heavily like he'd just run a long distance. Hurt flashed in his eyes but Sherlock found it very difficult to give a shit right now.

"You were gone for two years Sherlock." He whispered harshly, and Sherlock rolled his eyes,

"I Know! I apologized I made myself-"

"No Sherlock!-" John cut over him, yelling now, "I didn't have to put up with this-you-" and he gestured at Sherlock violently' "for two years, and I'll tell you what Sherlock, I may have been depressed and at the lowest point in my life so far, but at least it was bloody peaceful!"

Sherlock reeled back as if slapped. He stared at the Doctor as he turned away from him and started pacing back and forth across the living room. After a pause in which Sherlock gathered himself together and shut everything else down, he focused back on the Doctor.

"Well if that's how you feel-"

"No Sherlock- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have acted like that."

"And yet you did. Clearly you still have some unresolved issues that needs to be worked out, I told you that Psychologist was rubbish, if you just let me-" Sherlock stopped when he realized that John was laughing to himself. His shoulders were slumped as if all the anger he had felt a few moments ago had suddenly left him. Still laughing he turned and fell into his chair, which Sherlock had not touched, since- since _that_ night.

"Haven't changed a bit." Sherlock heard him mutter as he put his head into his hands. Sherlock started to fell uncomfortable, wondering why the Doctor had suddenly started showing signs of staying longer. He was about to ask when there was a loud crash from downstairs. John jerked his head up and then looked over at Sherlock who just shrugged his shoulders.

There were a few more bumps and then what sounded like a woman swearing, John raised a brow at him but he hardly registered it as something like recognition coiled in his gut.

After a pause there was a calm knocking sounding quite strange compared to the recent racket.

"Sherlock, the door." John said after neither of them moved. Frowning at the other man he moved across the living room and to the door. Whipping it open he let out an undignified yelp when a blonde woman, but not The Woman, almost fell through the door. Stumbling a little she looked up and grinned slightly, seemingly very tense. Sherlock stared at her and started deducing everything he could about her, but something was getting in the way, and he couldn't look away from her face, which was screaming at him inside his mind.

"Oh bloody hell you've got to be kidding me?" the woman exclaimed, straightening up and revealing that she was almost as tall as Sherlock. She sighed and glared at the man.

"Um, hello?" John said from behind Sherlock, making him jump. The woman glanced over at him and grinned again,

"Ah! Doctor John Watson, I was hoping you would be here…"

"Err…"

It was then that Sherlock noticed that her cheekbone was reddening slightly and that her breath was labored. Faint alarm made itself known just as the woman pulled open her black coat,

"I seem to have got myself into a spot of bother." She said jokily, although her voice was starting to waver.

Both John and Sherlock glanced down at the movement and it was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over the both of them, because when they looked down they noticed that the woman had rather large knife sticking out of her side.

"Starting to feel a bit not good." The woman said faintly before her legs went out from under her and both Sherlock and John had to leap forward to stop her from face planting right there on the living room carpet.

**xxx**

**Yeah I know, it's an OC. First off let's make some things clear. She won't be Mary Sue, she won't be Sherlock's love interest (because if I paired him with anyone then it would have to be John, duh.) and finally she won't dominate the plot. For the rest of it, you'll have to wait and see. **

**Let me know what you think in a review, I'd really appreciate that! **


End file.
